


You've Twenty Seconds

by Bryellii



Category: South Park
Genre: AU, Angel Butters, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Clyde is mute, Demon Craig, Demon Kenny, F/M, Gore, M/M, Muteness, Priest Clyde, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-08 02:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14684757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryellii/pseuds/Bryellii
Summary: A face appeared above him, the figure having leaned over the couch to get a better look at Clyde. If his heart hadn’t stopped earlier, then it most definitely did now.“Donovan,” the gruff voice said, a large smirk plastered onto his face, “long time no see. So, you finally gonna talk to me? Or are we gonna have to force the words outta your mouth?”





	You've Twenty Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> I've been submerged in this AU, so here's my contribution.
> 
> Clyde is mute and married to Bebe. Kenny will also be playing a major role.

“Did you have another nightmare, dear?” Bebe’s soothing voice quietly asked, her arms stretching towards the brunet and drawing him into a tight embrace.

Clyde’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, the _ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump_ ringing loudly in his ears and sweat dripping down his face. His breath was heavy and his breathing was rapid. The boy curls in on himself, hugging his knees close to his chest as he tries to calm himself, tries to stabilize his breathing. He gives his wife a curt nod while he trembles, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, which are shut tightly, not going to be opening anytime soon.

Bebe brings her husband closer to her, one of her hands moving up to brush through his hair a few times, comforting him a bit. She hums a familiar tune; a traditional Dutch melody that Clyde’s mother used to sing to him, before her death.

The nightmare that Clyde had tonight was absolutely brutal, much worse than the ones he previously had. It still included that raven-haired demon with deep red eyes, but there was a second one this time. He had dirty blond hair and stunning navy blue eyes. They’d both scarred up his body, sharp nails scratching and cutting into the skin. He’d been blinded in one eye and stripped down completely, leaving nothing to the imagination. His dignity had been stolen as the noirette reached down to touch and explore while the blond bit and marked Clyde. There weren’t any marks on his body, so it helped somewhat to know that none of it really happened.

His breathing came to a slower pace moments later, Bebe planting a kiss on his cheek and whispering to him. _“It’s okay, Clyde, you’re alright. You’re with me, you’re safe.”_ And the words helped to calm him down. He had no idea how he got so lucky with running into a girl like her. Bebe was perfect in Clyde’s eyes; she was stunning, smart, and was one of the nicest girls he had ever met.

He allows his eyes to open then close again as he snuggles closer to her, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. He was glad that Bebe understood the celibacy he had taken up years ago. He had been easily grossed out when he first discovered sex, and vowed to himself to never indulge in it. When he’d met her the first time, he was worried she would want to take him home after dinner. Thankfully she didn’t try anything, and admitted that she was asexual. Their relationship was very clean, only ever including cuddles and chaste kisses. Marriage was… odd. They never had one, due to Clyde’s celibate lifestyle, but often referred to one another as ‘husband’ and ‘wife.’ _“Maybe one day,”_ Clyde had signed to Bebe when the topic had been brought up. She had taken up a class on sign language to better understand the boy, to which Clyde was thrilled about.

Moments later had he fallen asleep in Bebe’s embrace, the blonde following suit.

The night went by in a flash after that. There wasn’t any recollection of nightmares, and Clyde hadn’t woken up in a pool of his own sweat like he had earlier. Bebe was missing from the bed, but heard the shower running from the bathroom just across the hall.

Slinking up from the mattress, Clyde grabbed a pair of shorts, slid them on, and walked out of the bedroom. He’d wait for Bebe to finish her shower to freshen up himself.

The kitchen is very clean, the sink empty and all the dishes and silverware placed neatly in their respective places. The table, counter, and stove top had been wiped down and the sun brightly glimmered off of their surfaces, reflecting that light onto the surrounding walls. The room smelled strongly of pine, the only freshener that the couple would ever buy.

The brunet glided over to the fridge, opening the door and being greeted with its coldness. He scanned the shelves, brown orbs finally settling on the egg carton. He picked the cardboard container up, setting them onto the counter beside him, and grabbed the half gallon of milk while he’s at it, placing it right beside the eggs. Closing the fridge door, he placed the ingredients beside the stove and took a mixing bowl from the cabinet above him, also taking a mixer from the drawer to the left of him.

He cracked open the eggs and got to work, then took out a pan and twisted the knob on the stove, placing the metal object on top of the heating burner. The liquified eggs were added only seconds later.

Minutes later, he had turned the stove off and seasoned them to both his and Bebe’s preference. He picked up a plate and scraped some onto it, making his way over to the table and setting it down, a fork being set aside for her as well. Clyde got himself a plate, taking the rest for himself.

The water had gone silent, and he assumed that Bebe would be out soon. In the meantime, he got himself a cup of black coffee that his lover had made earlier. It was still warm, thankfully.

As he sat down at the table, Bebe had come out of the bathroom dressed in her lawyer’s outfit. She placed herself at the opposite end of the table, sending Clyde a warm smile, which he returned.

“You didn’t have to do this, hon,” she said, scooting closer towards the table. Clyde shrugged, a smile still on his features. _“Shall we?”_ He signed to her, receiving a nod in return. The two bowed their heads and Bebe said their prayers. They simultaneously picked up their forks afterwards and dug right in. Soon enough, the plates had been cleared and placed in the sink. Bebe slipped on her flats and tugged on her coat, leaving with a _“I’ll be home late, sweetie. Text me if anything goes wrong, okay? I picked up your medicine yesterday on my home from work, they’re on the top shelf. Love you!”_

Clyde quickly signed back to her as he placed a kiss on her cheek and then she was gone. The car pulled away and Clyde was alone again.

An inaudible sigh left him as he walked into the living room, placing himself down on the couch. His Bible had been picked up from the top of the bookshelf as he wound his way through the coffee table and armchair, and he opened up the page to where he left off.

Sticky notes stuck out from just about everywhere, telling him of reminders and notes about the next lessons. Honestly, Clyde was never entirely sure of how he became the priest of South Park’s church. His own father had said that Clyde could never be one, despite the fact that he always attended the sermons and stayed til the very end, along with getting involved with just about every single event that was held. But Father Maxi had claimed that Clyde would be after him, since he had a vision sent to him from God.

And here he was, head of the town’s church and doing a damn good job at it.

Well, at least, that’s what he thought.

Recently, Clyde had been visited by a demon with black hair and stunning blue eyes. It terrified him, especially since he didn’t know what he had done wrong. He’s always confessed his sins, which was an incredibly rare thing since he would never swear or curse or even have sex. And he most definitely would never harm another person.

He’d been to Hell and back so many times that he was certain Satan himself would come and drag him all the way down to the fiery pits of the underworld.

But he hadn’t, and Clyde felt safe.

At least, until today.

A burst of fire sprouted up from the wooden floorboards, causing the brunet to press himself up against the back of the couch and fall over onto the floor. A laugh erupted throughout the room, and he swore that his heart stopped, swore that his soul jumped right out of his body in an attempt to run away.

A face appeared above him, the figure having leaned over the couch to get a better look at Clyde. If his heart hadn’t stopped earlier, then it most definitely did now.

“Donovan,” the gruff voice said, a large smirk plastered onto his face, “long time no see. So, you finally gonna talk to me? Or are we gonna have to force the words outta your mouth?”

Clyde shuddered in response, rapidly shaking his head ‘no.’ The demon, named Kraigh, knew fully well that the brunet was born a mute. The noirette only smirked on response, reaching his hand towards Clyde to haul him up to his feet. He brought the man in close, sharp teeth baring menacingly at the brunet. “Lighten up, kid, I’m only messin’ with ya,” Kraigh said, dragging Clyde up and over the back of the couch only to plop him down on top of his lap, clawed fingers finding their way into Clyde’s hair and tugging on it.

“C’mon Donovan, you can cry out. Pain or pleasure, your choice, but at least give me somethin’ to work with here,” the demon says, leaning in close to bite the man’s earlobe. A shock of pain courses through his body and he can feel the tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He’s always been such a huge fucking crybaby. Always always always did the tears come when he was hurt, made fun of. Mental and physical pain brought the tears and it was his weakness. He hated this, he hated Kraigh, he hated all those who hurt him. But he forgave each and every single one of them, as it was a sin not to. Father Maxi taught him that. Hate was evil, a sin. Only sinners hated.

And so Clyde cried and cried and cried, silently begging for the demon to stop, to leave.

And he did.

Clyde’s eyes cracked open as he jolted upright on the couch, the knocking of the door growing louder and more frantic.

Stepping up from his seat, Clyde exited the living room to check the front door. Upon opening it, he saw someone he hadn’t seen for a long time. He started to feel dizzy.

“Well, uh, hiya Clyde! Oh-- a-are you alright?”

And then everything went dark.

By the time Clyde had woken up, the sun was starting to set over the horizon. Bebe would be home soon. There was a cool, wet cloth placed on top of his forehead, but he didn’t remember putting that there.

Suddenly it him, the fact that he had seen something impossible. The brunet shot up, eyes wide as he frantically looked about to try and find some sort of sign that he wasn’t crazy, that it was just a dream and nothing more. His face paled once he set his eyes on that golden boy. His hair was short and his light blue eyes sparkled in the little sunlight that was left. He kicked his feet back and forth as he saw atop the small bookshelf to the right of him. The boy grinned as he saw that Clyde was awake.

“Sorry ‘bout scarin’ ya there,” he said, light and breezy, “And, no, you’re not dreaming, Clyde. You’re not crazy, either.”

Clyde gaped at him, trying to force the pieces together. He got nothing, though.

“If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m an angel. Thought the halo and wings woulda given it away but…” the boy grinned even wider, “It’s pretty nice ta see ya again, Clyde!”

The brunet felt like he was going to pass out again. There was absolutely no way that Butters Stotch was sitting before him. He was certain that the boy had gone down there, given the fact that he had caused harm to see many people during his Professor Chaos years. Not to mention that his boyfriend was a fucking sociopath. Ah, yes. Eric Cartman. Clyde sometimes wondered what happened to the guy, but quickly discarded the thought. He was fine without him, especially since he was the only kid who ever made him feel bad about his weight, about his tears, about his muteness and that he killed his own mother.

Oh, Clyde sure did hate Cartman alright. But it was always Father Maxi who reminded him; forgive forgive forgive.

So that’s exactly what he did.

Every single crime, every single sin, lie, hateful word that spewed from Cartman’s lips he forgave. He gave Cartman one more chance each time, just one more because he’s not a bad person, just misunderstood and neglected.

Butters understood him enough to confess his love, to finally admit that he was a fag for Eric Theodore Cartman. The world was shocked to find out the same thing was true for Eric, though he was a total and utter fag for Leopold “Butters” Stotch.

It was not a sin that needed forgiveness, because it was not a sin at all.

Clyde was proud of Cartman.

But seeing that boy that Eric sobbed over for weeks, months, years put him at edge. They were only 17, and Butters parents finally pulled the plug on the poor boy. They’d had enough of his feminism, of his love for his boyfriend. They hadn’t realized how much they hurt their son until it was far too late. Slit wrists that dripped blood stained the carpet in his room, puddling more and more with each hour that passed. Clyde was certain that Eric ran off and did the same, especially since he hadn’t seen the fat man since the funeral.

Cartman thought they had put him in a mental hospital because all it ever was to the Stotch family was simply ‘a phase.’ They’re certain that he’d grow out of it eventually, Stephen, they must be right. The boy had been rotting underground for two years, and then Linda had a panic attack and the guilt piled up and up and up until she could no longer handle it. Butters had not been put into a mental hospital. Linda was.

But she and Stephen were forgiven. They saw their son as hurt and helpless and only wanted to help. They didn’t know what would happen, and they repented for their sins.

“Clyde? Can you speak to me?”

Butters must have forgotten about Clyde’s muteness, that his tongue was coated lead and his vocal cords short-circuited. He stared at the blond, brown meeting blue. Butters corrected himself with an _“oh golly gee! Sorry Clyde, it’s just been so long!”_ and Clyde forgave him.

“Um, well do ya suppose you could at least write to me? I, uh, don’t really know sign language really well…” the blond mutters, knuckles rubbing against one another. Clyde nods at that, leading Butters through the house once the door is shut and locked once more. He seats himself on the couch again, picking up a pen and the wad of post-it notes. He jots down a “what are you doing here?” and shows it to the other, who’s awkwardly hovering beside the brunet.

“Well, I, uh, was sent down to tell ya about those dreams, y’know? The ones you’ve been havin’,” is what Butters responds with, and Clyde nods for him to continue.

“Y’see, Clyde, we’re not so sure what ya did wrong, or anythin’, because, well, ya did do nothin’ wrong,” he goes on, knuckles rubbing together even more than before, “Well, at least, that’s what the Big Man said, but we ain’t too sure about all that.”

Clyde blinks slowly. Had he ever done anything wrong? Maybe it was something that happened in the past… maybe jacked himself off in the shower..? No, no, he’s never done that. He always took cold showers when he got all hot and horny, mainly because the mere thought of ejaculating made him sick.

The brunet jots down a quick _“wdym?”_ and hands it off to Butters, who shrugs in response. “I wish I knew, buddy,” the blond says, the sticky note being passed back to Clyde. “But ya must’ve done somethin’ real bad to end up on Satan’s list.”

Clyde felt all the color in his face drain at that. He was on the verge of throwing up now. He was on Satan’s list? No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. He was dreaming again, having another of his nightmares. Bebe would wake him up at any moment now and hold him, nuzzling him, saying how everything is okay, that none if it happened. He would be awake and safe in Bebe’s embrace, cuddling with her and crying and crying and crying.

“Clyde.”

No, you aren’t real. Butters was dead and gone and in Heaven. He was an angel and angels stayed up in the Heavenly Plain. If God wanted to tell him something, then he’d do it himself.

“Clyde?”

Or maybe this wasn’t Butters. Maybe that demon came back to torture him even more, maybe mark and scar him. He’d come back to settle the deal and do what he’s been doing in Clyde’s dream. He was just trying to gain his trust, make him believe that he was a good spirit. That would be his plan, to sneak up on him then take him from behind, fucking him so rough and hard that he’d bleed out and die and his soul would be dragged all the way down to Hell. This was his warning, and he had to act on whether or not he’d--

_“Clyde!”_

Butters forced the man out of his thoughts, and the brunet sunk further back into the chair, eyes wide and breathing steadily growing more and more rapid.

Guilt began to bubble up inside of Butters. He hadn’t meant to yell like that, but Clyde just seemed so lost in horrible thoughts that he had to do _something_. He sighed, running a hand through his golden tuft of hair, “Hey, Clyde, buddy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at ya…” He drifted back a bit, not sure what to do now.

“Um, take deep breaths?”

Clyde did just that. His breathing began evening out and he slowly sat forward. Moments later it was as if he never had a panic attack. He looked at Butters, expecting him to say something, anything.

“Are you okay?” The angel finally asked. Clyde nodded his head. “Okay, good. I thought I lost ya for a second,” he responded, “Got a li’l worried.” An awkward silence hung in the air. Butters didn’t know what to say, and Clyde was waiting for him to speak some more. And it’s not really like Clyde could talk in the first place.

“I’m gonna, uh, head on back. I’ll let ya know if we get any updates,” and then Butters vanished before Clyde’s eyes, leaving to his thoughts.

An arm wrapped around Clyde’s shoulders, and the brunet thought it would have been the angel. He was shocked to see that it wasn’t, and he regretted not thinking of any more questions to ask the friendly boy.

“ _So_ glad he’s finally gone! Goddamn, didn’t think I’d ever have ya to myself.”

Clyde knew that voice far too well. It was in his dreams, in his nightmares.

“Name’s Kraigh, pleasure to finally meet ya in the real world. Those dreams of yours were _far_ too boring for my tastes, so how about we make up for all that right now?”

Clyde suddenly wondered when Bebe would finally return home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There isn't a whole lot of interactions between the other characters quite yet, but those will be happening more in the next chapter!
> 
> Also, sorry if this chapter is confusing! I tried my best to make it as clear as possible, but some parts had to be left otherwise everything would have been completely messed up.
> 
> This AU has been really dead ever since Phone Destroyer came out and Imp Tweek / Youth Pastor Craig were discovered, but I really think the idea deserves more attention.
> 
> I've added in all the tags that are going to be taking place throughout this fic, so if one of them ends up bothering you, then you know to brace yourself for it. I'll be sure to leave a note about when certain things will be happening.
> 
> Feel free to comment, though! I'd really like to hear what you all think about the storyline so far!
> 
> [Yell at me to stop procrastinating](https://crybaby--clyde.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
